


The Rose

by CometEclipse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:37:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6736522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CometEclipse/pseuds/CometEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative version of the rose scene for Alistair's romance, where he is still the awkward goofball we all know and love!</p><p>Written for <a href=""> demonicdiva's </a> win from my 400 follower giveaway on<a href=""> my tumblr!</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madelief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madelief/gifts).



It was late at camp, the fire sluggishly burning, most of the logs now embers. Almost everyone had gone to bed, but Elissa gazed pensively at the flames. Alistair could tell she wasn’t really seeing them, though. What was she thinking of? The bloody past or the bleak future? She really didn’t talk about what was worrying her most of the time, but with the way the world was going there plenty of reasons for why she was looking so sad tonight. She usually hid it, and hid it well, but tonight there was a fragile quality about her. A sadness that ached at him.

He glanced around, making sure there was no one to see his fumbling attempts, and moved to her side. “Hey,” Alistair gulped, sitting down next to her.

Elissa blinked, coming back to herself. She turned and smiled halfheartedly, and Alistair gulped as the full force of her gaze landed on him.

Abruptly, he thrust out his hand. “Here, look at this.”

She looked slightly startled at his jerky movements, and he almost snatched his hand back. But Elissa raised a hand, brushing her fingers along soft petals. “A rose?”

He swallowed again, hoping the sandpaper in his throat wasn’t too obvious. “I picked it. When we were in Lothering. It was so beautiful; something perfect and bright in the midst of all the ugliness and despair.” He looked into the flames and shook his head, “I just… couldn’t leave it for the darkspawn to taint and ruin it.”

“It’s beautiful,” her voice whispered out. Alistair took courage from her lack of derision, and he looked back to the strong and lovely woman at his side.

“I thought… well, I think of you, when I look at it. You are the same; something rare and wonderful during all this darkness. I thought you should have it. That you would like it.”

Her eyes locked with his, and he wanted to squirm, certain that she could see too much of what he felt. “Thank you Alistair.” She looked down at the rose, her lashes shielding her eyes. “It is a beautiful sentiment.”

She lifted the rose from his fingers and brought it to her nose. Closing her eyes she inhaled the delicate fragrance deeply, seemingly lost in emotions that now openly racing over her face. Alistair watched in greedy fascination, still slightly surprised that he wanted so much to know what she was thinking, how she was feeling. She kept herself so in control, leading their band as if she was born to it. But sometimes, like tonight when she thought no one was looking, she let her guard down. And Alistair wanted to take away the pain he saw when she did.

For a moment, Elissa was absorbed in the gift, and Alistair felt a small swell of pride grow in his chest. She liked his rose! He wanted to spring up and dance like her mabari Tank did when he was getting a bone. Alistair froze the animated bouncing of his knee; did he just compare himself to a dog?

A sniff jerked Alistair’s full attention back to the woman at his side. Elissa’s eyes were still closed, a single tear brilliant in the firelight as the amber drop spilled down her cheek. His mouth dropped open in horror, “No, no, no, no,” He burst out, his hands flying in the air, not sure whether to touch her, rip the rose from her hand, pat her back, or just run away. “It wasn’t supposed to make you cry! I was trying to give you something good! Make you happy!”

She smiled slightly, blinking her wet lashes as she stared down at the flower. “It just… it reminds me of my mother. Her favorite of the gardens was the Rose Garden. I would often find her there, taking tea in the gazebo.” The smile wobbled with bittersweet remembrance and Alistair stared at her lips. She had spoken about her past before. Obviously it was a cherished time for her.

She suddenly looked up at him, a slight but real smile warming the heartbreak beneath it all, “This is the first time thinking about her doesn’t hurt as much.” She dropped her nose into the petals once more and took a huge, cleansing breath. Alistair heard her whisper, “They wouldn’t want me to mourn.”

He cleared his throat and licked his lips, automatically looking away at the vulnerability she was displaying. Embarrassment lit his face with heat, and as he always did when embarrassed, he babbled.

“Of course the one gift I think to give you turns out to be the stupidest idea. I’m great at being-“ Suddenly, something she said finally clicked in his mind. Alistair’s eyebrows shot up, and he spun to look at her poignant expression. “Woah, woah, woah… Gardens? As in plural? As in you had more than one?” His voice came out a bit squeaky, but shock was holding him too tightly in its grasp to care.

Elissa gave him a puzzled look, confused at his confusion. “Yes, we had many different types of gardens at home.”

At Alistair’s shocked gaping, a creeping look of understanding spread over Elissa’s face, “Alistair… did Duncan not tell you who I am?”

He shrugged his big shoulders, “Of course he did. You are Elissa Cousland?” It was supposed to be a statement but even he heard the strange question that made his voice shoot too high.

She nodded her head, “Yes… did he tell you who my parents are?” A flash of stark pain cut across her face before she closed her eyes and said in a softer tone, “Were.”

Alistair shook his head, hesitant to bring up a subject that was obviously very painful for her. Her parents were dead then, and recently. That’s how he felt when he thought of Duncan, the only man who had treated him like real family. And he had only known Duncan for a short while; losing those who had been with her all her life? He couldn’t imagine the pain she must be in. And here he was, wallowing in his own misery, when she had been mourning deeply as well.

She took a deep breath and stared into the fire. “My parents were Teyrn Bryce and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland of Highever.”

The world went a bit wonky after her statement, things seemed to shift sideways a little bit. And Elissa looked startled then concerned, although she was just as off vertices as everything else. Teyrn. As in… super powerful, contenders for the kingship, as in Noble. Elissa was a noble woman, heir to one of the most powerful families in Ferelden.

No wonder she was such a great leader; she had been born for it.

He couldn’t think of anything logical to say, his brain shorting out on the fact that she was now, and forever would be, wayyyy beyond him.

But his mouth opened anyways, and out popped, “Does this mean I have to hold your tiara when we fight?”

A real, true gurgle of laughter escaped Elissa, and she shook her head vehemently as she smiled. “I don’t think I have worn a tiara in my life!”

A burst of happiness settled the world to right again, and Alistair straightened from the oh-so-subtle foot he had been leaning. He had made her laugh. “No tiara, huh. Well, I should definitely start bowing and saying ‘Yes, My Lady’ after everything you say.” Another laugh escaped her, and Alistair hurried out again, asking in exaggerated, breathless reverence, “Or should it be ‘Your Majesty?’”

Elissa’s giggling was growing louder, her smile wider than he had ever seen it, “If you even try it, I’m going to send Tank to wake you up every morning!”

Alistair’s eyes shot to where her gigantic mabari was sleeping next to the fire. The beast was splayed on his side, his mouth open and tongue lolling forth, rivulets of drool pooling beneath him. Even in sleep, Tank was a slobbering monster. The horror that chased away his amusement was very, very real. “Anything but that!” He shuddered, just imagining that tongue moving over his face and drowning him.

Elissa clapped a hand over her mouth, holding the rose delicately while keeping her laughter from waking the others. Alistair looked back to her happy face, wavering between the horror of her punishment and pride that he had made her laugh.

After a moment of composing herself, she lowered her hand and shook her head. “Don’t even think of treating me any differently, Alistair. We are the same. I am a Grey Warden, just like you.” She reached out and covered his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We are in this together.”

A flood of heat swept through him, and he stared down at the delicate yet strong hand covering his. Together. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Together.

His cheeks pink, he stood abruptly, taking her hand in his. She blinked as he stood over her, then, with as much stodgy formality he could muster, Alistair bowed over her hand. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

Her peal of laughter sent Tank scrambling upright, looking around. “Alistair!” She laughed, and he spun on his heel, dashing across the camp to his tent and diving inside, his own laughter too loud and streaming behind him. Before he closed the cloth firmly against the threat of a slobbering mabari, he looked at Elissa.

Her grin of delight and exasperation rivaled the fire for brightness as she shook her head and gazed at him. He couldn’t help but grin goofily in return, feeling that same glow lighting him up inside. With a wink, Alistair closed his tent and firmly fastened it, trying to make it mabari-proof. He was feeling lighter than he had in forever; Elissa had opened up to him and he had made her laugh. And she had been holding the rose gently, as if it were important to her, even as he had teased her. Now, if that wasn’t something to give a man hope, then nothing was.


End file.
